


The Edge of a Blade

by violetlolitapop



Series: Kiss the Ring [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, F/M, Incest, this series gets updated on the first of every month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:11:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetlolitapop/pseuds/violetlolitapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Francis is no fool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Edge of a Blade

**xxx**

_"The King must die so that the country may live."_

**xxx**

King Francis is no fool.

The Bonnefoy Line has been prosperous since the beginning of his Kingdom's history, and he knows very well of the reason why it is such. It is not for any clandestine attribute to their country; their aristocracy resides in the singular form of being nothing more than healthy breeding stock for the Royal Family. Their wealth stems from continuously giving their own away to their Queen and Country, producing heirs, and giving their life to having the honor of being a grand figure head to the State.

With only twelve years to his age, Francis understood then that he would have no control over the direction of his own life when his beloved Queen first came into the world, and now with more than thirty to his name he's come to something akin to acceptance on the outcome of a life he was never really allowed to live.

The Diamond Kingdom is the happiest of all Kingdoms, they say, but the King himself must settle for the contentment his situation allows.

This is not to say that Francis is all gloom and pessimism. He enjoys the lavish lifestyle he's known - the grand and over exaggerations of wealth that seeps into every societal event, the frivolous luxuries of materialistic items he collects, and the hedonistic indulgences of the flesh before his marriage - and will not deny that with his title as King, he's given more free reign to continue reveling as he pleases. If it just so happens that every now and again a spell of ennui takes over him and he begins to question his lifestyle, well, then, he brushes the feelings aside and does his best to keep them at bay.

Then there is the subject of his wife, whom he adores very much.

Yes, despite everything, he does love his wife.

Queen Lili is all noble compassion and pure sweetness. He often feels he first began to love her from first sight; a tiny child tucked beneath blankets of pale pink and gold trim in an overly decorated cradle. Already such a precious being, and knowing his role in life so well, it had been only natural to give her promises of safety and security. Such general affection only grew more amorously as she did, and it's most certain that when saying his vows, he's meant every one of them.

Of course, being far younger than he, and with not only the gap between their ages, and the circumstances of their marriage, he understands why it is that she will fulfill her duties as his wife in all aspects save one. As his Queen, he cannot do as many other husbands are wont to do in a similar situation, but even if he would have such power, he is more than certain that he would not put it to much use.

While he may love his wife, it's quite obvious that her only affection for him goes no further than the same care and devotion she shows to all of her subjects. She does not love him, not the way he may wish. She reserves such emotion for another, and in his opinion these particular acts within a marriage should carry such willingly. It will not do to force her, he would never be a man to do such a thing.

So, instead, he'll ease the heartbreak with simply teasing her.

"My dear wife," he'll say come time for their parting at the end of the day. "If only I could persuade you to warm my bed, I would be filled with the utmost contentment."

She'll flush prettily and lower her eyes while softly smiling.

"Perhaps another night," she'll say. "It has been such a tiring day."

He'll smile kindly and reach for her hand. He'll bring it to his lips and place a gentle kiss to the back of her palm. He'll wish her a goodnight, and promise to dine with her again in the morning before their separate duties conflict with any more time they may spend together.

She'll bring her hand back to curl against her breast, slowly and deliberately, all while holding his gaze and thank him. He's never quite sure what she is thanking him for. He thinks maybe for being so understanding of her wants and wishes. Maybe for his patience. His servitude. Whatever it may be, he won't deny the sense of satisfaction he receives after hearing those words.

Again, he feels his heart flutter with her soft words of appreciation at the end of another day, and he watches her leave his side and leave the dining hall with her flock of Ladies-in-Waiting in a flurry of pale gowns and petticoats until she has left entirely. When she is gone, he'll sink a little further into his ornate seat, is the last of the trio to normally dine together in the vast cavern that is their dining hall, and release a little sigh of resignation.

"And so another evening passes with a cold bed, your Highness."

These words come from their very own Ace of the court, their highly esteemed commander of their military forces. As Lili has her guards in the form of the Ladies that follow her every step, and her brother - the Jack of their court - has no need for these sort of lengths of protection, Francis has the Ace and her hand picked soldiers for himself when she is unable to remain by his side.

Which is where she stands now.

He looks up to her post by his seat, still slouched and with his elbow propped on the armrest, leans into his open palm and smiles. With both the Queen and the Jack gone, she's more at ease even while wearing her ceremonial dress. Her militant uniform and constricting armor seem out of place with the warm smile she gives him. She looks more like the fisherman's daughter she was born as rather his greatest soldier.

Francis will admit, he rather likes Chelles. The level of honesty she carries with him is refreshing to the pandering and schmoozing of others living within the court's inner circle. His encouragement for her to be so has only made her warm to him all the better, and with that comes a friendship he never did think he would ever enjoy. Even if at times their playful banter crosses the lines of mere friendship and dwells into a flirtatious territory of insinuations and innuendos.

"It appears so," he says. "Ironic for a man to share nightly company as a bachelor and spend them alone once he's married. Ah, well, nothing for it, I suppose."

"A pure heart's instincts is to remain pure, it's only natural, and quite admirable. His Majesty is truly handsome."

"Truly? Even as I grow older."

"Like a fine wine."

Her cheek has him laugh. "And no one to sample a taste."

"A waste indeed."

"I wonder... Tell me, Chelles, what is your opinion on remedying such a terrible waste?"

It's all in mere jest, he knows very well that there is no genuine intent behind their words when they begin to become more perverse and legitimate sounding offers are made. She has no reason, and he's certain she has no real want, to engage herself with him. He does, however, enjoy the game. It reminds him of his younger years, and he does like to press at the boundaries set between them.

"My opinion?" she asks and then laughs. "My opinion means very little when chances of my own offer being rejected are quite high themselves."

A sly smile is given, his eyes crinkle upwards and shine with mischief.

"Now that is the assumption. Only a fool would dare reject you."

"And you are no fool, Your Highness."

"That I am not."

There is no continuation to their conversation. At that moment her Second-in-Command enters the room, and while neither one of them hide the evidence of there being relaxed atmosphere between them, neither one continues in speaking.

Evidently, there are some things Chelles must attend; a scouting report or some other. It's most likely just for regulations sake, they're living in a time of peace between the Great Kingdoms, there is no real urgency to whatever may be happening, he's sure. Still, he should not be one to encourage such lazy and irresponsible behavior.

He dismisses her, greets his new guard, and wears the same smile he's presented many times to the aristocracy living among them as she takes her leave with a deep sweeping curtsy rather a bow, as if to give him a reminder that yes she is a soldier, but she is still a woman.

"Your Majesty."

The phrase rolls off her tongue in honeyed drips and accompanied with a smile that is unexpected from someone of her station. They're eyes gaze into one another's for only a few seconds before she turns on her heel and leaves. Much like watching Lili, his eyes keep to her figure until she is no longer visible.

Sometimes he wonders if her acting dips into sincerity. If perhaps should she offer her services in other ways and he were to accept, she would oblige. He won't deny her attractiveness; her dark complexion - hair, eyes, even her weather harden complexion - is alluring.

He wonders, but does nothing more. Should she ever give him a true proposal, there's no question to the honest refusal he would make despite his previous words.

Above all things he wishes to be loyal. It may be the ingrained servitude, but he thinks it's more to do with his romantic nature. His wife may not love him, but he does love her, and as they remain married he will work to keep the vows he's made before God, and the promises he's made to her.

Oh, how the burden would be much easier to bear if she would only do the same...

He rises from the table, always the last to leave. It alerts his guard, together they make their way back to his quarters; the guard's footsteps heavy with aid from his boots, his own heavy by the ache in his chest.

She tries so hard to keep it hidden, from the others and from him especially. Chelles words of her pure heart running on instinct to remain such could not be further from the truth, but Francis himself will not smear his wife's name with the truth. Because on one hand there could not be a more revolting idea, and on the other... her illicit affair, to a great many, would be even more revolting if the truth of her bed partner's identity should ever be known.

While Francis would not be the first King to take on a lover should he choose, Lili would not be the first Queen to do the same, and certainly not with the Jack of all people. She would, however, be the first to take on a lover with the Jack when he is both her closest consultant and brother.

Francis had thought himself perverted when first discovering them, had thought himself paranoid when piecing together their overly affectionate manner towards one another behind closed doors. He has scolded himself, because of course they would be close to one another, considering their lives growing up behind castle walls. They would just as well be groomed for their places in the hierarchy just as himself. It's natural.

Yes, well, the thought had been innocent and able to placate any growing suspicion for some time. That is, until he had been granted the privilege of bearing witness to their sinful acts in person. He had only meant to leave a small gift for Lili on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, place it somewhere in her bed chamber for her own private viewing as a token to further deepen their own relationship. He had never meant to stumble across them entangled with one another, she in his lap pressing kisses along the underside of his jaw and him with his hands undoing the laces of her gown, and he had only left as discreetly as he had came.

He has never seen or heard anything more involving the two, though there had never been an instant in which he can assume that their liaisons have ceased. If anything, they've only grown bolder. They've become more affectionate towards each other in public over the years, Francis has watched it all without condoning or condemning, and how often he wonders if others notice the same, but court life continues as usual without so much as a whisper of what could be occurring right under their noses. It's all the same _dramatic scandal_ between Lady Such-and-Such and Sir This-and-That and no one other than him is the wiser.

And so the days pass in this manner. Francis attends to his duties as King, Lili will see to her Kingdom and People, and Vash continues with his diplomacy and attends to the Treasury. They dine together at meals, attend functions together when needed, and nothing more. He carries on his life of isolation while the two siblings carry on with their own.

Until one night, as Francis sits at his writing table within his own bed chamber with papers spread on its surface and pen in hand, there comes a rapping at his door. The hour is late, and thinking it to be something of great urgency, he rises quickly and dons on his robe. He answers the door, is not surprised to see Chelles and is ready to ask what is the matter, but her stance is not tense and her aura is warm. If anything she looks happier now than she ever has before.

"Your Highness," she greets, and her smile is wide.

Has she finally come to offer herself to him as he had always imagined happening? He's speechless. He'll send her away, of course, but he hadn't actually ever imagined the idea coming true. He's unable to say anything more, Chelles steps the side and reveals a smaller figure behind her.

"It seems Her Majesty wished for your company this evening," she continues, and true enough Lili stands behind her, dressed in her pink nightgown and shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "I've been sent to escort her."

Again, Francis is speechless. He's left gaping at his door for only a moment or two before he's able to collect himself and grant her entrances into his room. Chelles, again, smiles at him as he closes the door, and he's sure to hear a lot more of this the next day from her when they are alone.

If only he knew what to expect of this night, he has no idea...

Francis ensures that the door is secured, and only then does he turn to face his Queen. She stands in the very center of the room, looking a bit frightened. Her eyes are wide and the smile she presents to him is shaky. He in turn does his best to calm her by giving her his kindest smile and approaches her cautiously.

"My dearest wife," he says. "What brings you here to my quarters so late this night? I hope all is well."

He can see her throat bob as she prepares herself to speak. In all his years as her husband, he's watched her deal with her political advisers and foreign embassies with ease. Not once has she ever hinted at ever having a moment of stage fright, not once has she ever allowed her nervousness to show, and yet now, in front of him, she looks as a child readying themselves for punishment.

"I..." She trails off, her eyes fall to the floor. Just as suddenly she lifts her head up high, looks as she does when dealing with political matters and clears her throat. "I have noticed that these past few nights, you have not asked for my company. I hope that my aging has not turn you away from such advances..."

Francis chuckles at that, though not unkindly. "No, no, that is.. quite far from the truth. You are lovely as ever. If anything, you've only grown prettier, and I've no doubt you'll continue to do so. No, I'm afraid that many matters call for my attention. I have been working late into the evenings, as you can see."

His hand motions to his desk off to the side, her eyes dart towards the direction, and her head nods in understanding. Still, even as he drops his arm back to his side, there still a sense of apprehension coming from her. His smile wanes, only a shadow of it's grandeur remains as his head tilts in an unspoken question. Her shaky smile returns.

"I'm relieved," she says, and then immediately looks to regret her words. "That is to say, I'm sorry for the extra work you must see to, if there's anything at all that I am able to take on for myself, I'd be more than happy-"

"Lili, Lili, it's all fine, I can assure you. It's nothing that I am unable to handle."

His words silence her once more, and with a clear indication of determination, her hands travel to the small buttons adorning the top part of her gown.

"A small rest then," she says quietly and toys with the first. "You have been working so hard for the sake of our people. Perhaps, then, I could assist you in other ways."

For the third time in the evening, Francis finds himself speechless and can do nothing but watch in awe as her fingers work quickly to undo the buttons against her chest. Even as she lifts her gown up and over her head to reveal her bare body to him, he's able to do nothing more than gape.

For what reason does she have in doing this now? Yes, he has been busy as of late, and he has observed Lili growing more introverted, but only with himself and a great many others, not with her brother. Had something happened between the two? There's no possible way...

He closes his mouth, now realizing that it's been left hanging. He cannot help but take in her full beauty - her small breasts and growing hips, shapely legs and porcelain skin. She shifts under his appraisal, most likely feeling uncomfortable. Her hands fold against her rounded belly, which he now notices appears to be hardened and looks to be distended, and suddenly he understands everything.

Francis approaches her carefully, kneels before her, and picks up at her nightgown. He rises then, presses the fabric into her hands, and steps away.

"Thank you, but I have much work to do," he says. "You may use my bed, it will not do for you to walk back through such cold halls for your own, I will not sleep tonight."

He's prepared to lead her to his bed, even moves to do so before she gives her approval, when she reaches out for him and grabs onto his robe.

"I-I know I have not been an attentive wife," she says. "But I do wish to make up for all these years you've spent alone. Francis, I.. I do love you, I do. I'm very happy that you are my husband."

His smile is genuine. "As am I. But I cannot ask you for anything that is not something you wish to give. My teasing is only that, I have no ill thoughts on your refusals."

"My refusals have been going on for far too long." Her voice is wavering. He can see her anxiousness rise and her eyes water. "Please, I have neglected you so, I must correct this."

"There is nothing to correct. I only have the utmost respect for you, wife. I will not ask for what you do not want."

"But I do want! I do!"

"I can't believe that. I apologize, and I mean no offense, but our marriage is comfortable, but carries no real love. You cannot want to lay with me so suddenly, and you are not a woman to make such rash decisions. We'll converse in the morning, if you honestly feel as if you've been neglecting me, but not now."

Her breathing hitches and she gulps heavily. Her grip on his robe tightens. "I know this seems odd, I understand how confused you must be, and why now of all times? But I want to be a good wife, Francis. I've finally realized how selfish I've been."

"You are not selfish. You are the very opposite."

"Then allow me to lay with you. Allow me to finally give myself to you."

"Lili, I will not."

"Francis, please!"

"No."

She grows hysterical. Tears are cascading down her cheeks in fat droplets and her breath turns shallow as she continues to plead.

"Please!" she cries. "Please, husband, please! You must lay with me! I need-! Please! I-I-! I am so sorry!"

Lili breaks completely; her tiny body racks with sobs and she hunches over, finally breaking their eye contact though continues to hold onto his robe tightly and without any lax in her grip.

Francis sighs heavily, places his hands over hers and pries them away. Though instead of turning them down, he holds them gently, and shushes her tears away with quiet, comforting words. As she finally calms herself to the point of harsh sniffles and short gasps, Francis urges her to look back to him, to make eye contact with him once more.

Her eyes are shining and red. She looks absolutely miserable and in her condition, he knows she should not look in such a way.

"I understand your intentions," he says, all in soft murmurs and loving tones. "I do."

He leans forward, presses a small kiss against her forehead, and his lips move against her skin in form of a caress as he speaks.

"Keep your baby, Lili. I am very happy for you."


End file.
